


Cracked Eggs, Poison Brownies, and Other Ways to Heaven

by orphan_account



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Baking, Gen, Luther-centric, Mentions of Body Dysphoria, Mentions of past child abuse, Mild Gore, NOT gender dysphoria, Seven idiots? healing? and learning to love themselves and each other? OH YEAH, Therapy, in this house luther cant bake to save his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Luther isn’t right. He hasn’t been since the serum, but he always assumed that one day he would wake up and he would be… fine. Not back to what he was before, but somehow magically okay with what happened. He keeps expecting to be comfortable in his body again like it’s his own.He isn't, though, but it gets a bit easier each day.
Relationships: Luther Hargreeves & The Hargreeves
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Cracked Eggs, Poison Brownies, and Other Ways to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a big fan of Luther, so this fic is a bit weird for me. It started out as part of a piece about trans!diego, but it took a life of its own and I decided it would be better off on its own. I played around with style a little too much here, i think, but thats very me so I'm gonna leave it
> 
> Warnings: Five breaks an arm off screen, fixing it is a bit graphic, mentions of drugs and past drug abuse in like one sentence, and some weird Luther-Allison things.
> 
> I don't like incest, but it can be read that way, even though i didn't intend it that way, so tread carefully ig.

Luther isn’t right. He hasn’t been since the serum, but he always assumed that one day he would wake up and he would be… fine. Not back to what he was before, but somehow magically okay with what happened. He keeps expecting to be comfortable in his body again like it’s his own.

His therapist, new and recommended by Allison, tells him that it doesn’t always work that way. She goes by Kate and she likes to throw around these words. Body dysphoria. PTSD. Abuse. He knows what they mean, but he doesn’t understand what they mean for him. 

Kate always has this tone, soft and understanding, and it’s so unlike anything Luther’s ever heard that it hurts sometimes, to listen to. But talking about the serum, and the moon is the worst. Her voice dips down three pitches, and she slows down. She isn’t mocking, but Luther still can’t stand it.

He likes her, though, or he thinks he does. He still hasn’t figured out what he’s supposed to look for in a therapist. He still hasn’t figured out how to approach therapy, but it helps, sometimes, when he’s at his worst. 

_ It wasn’t your fault _ , Kate told him, and he knows she’s right. When he’s itching for a drink or a fight to fill some unnamed void in his chest, he tells himself that.  _ It wasn’t my fault. _ Over and over. It doesn’t make him feel better, but it gives him a funny unnamed feeling where that funny unnamed void usually is. It hurts, but a lot of things do, these days and all he can do is try and fix it. Even if he isn’t sure how.

Allison says the therapy is helping him. She looks at him with a soft smile, and signs “I’m proud of you.” He loves her, he really does. Their relationship isn’t right, much like Luther isn’t, but they’re still brother and sister. He wants her to be happy because she deserves it. She fought so hard for it.

Her voice is coming back, she’s getting auditions lined up, and something has changed between them. She video calls him on the bad days, and they talk- sign, rather, even though she can talk again- about what’s happening. He leaves feeling a bit lighter, and he asks  _ is this what siblings are supposed to do _ ? one night to Allison’s amusement. 

“I think so,” she tells him. She doesn’t look sure. Neither of them have been good siblings to anyone before. 

Vanya still doesn’t trust him. Luther can’t blame her. Every time he looks at her, he’s so overwhelmed by guilt that he isn’t sure what to do. Kate says Vanya is under no obligation to forgive him. Kate is, as always, right, and Luther does what he can to make her comfortable.

Luther takes up baking. Sort of. He’s trying to take up baking, but everything about it is so precise. At first, he just missed Grace, but now he puts aside time every few days to attempt another recipe. He wants to actually bake something edible one day. It’s a distant goal. 

Vanya walks in on him trying to crack an egg one day. Luther has always prided himself on his control of his strength. Cracking eggs has taught him that he doesn’t know what control is. He ends up covered in eggshell, and turns, only to find Vanya, frozen behind him. There is egg yolk on her face, and her eyes are the widest he’s seen them, and he starts to apologize-

“God, Luther!” Her voice jumps up an octave and she dissolves into laughter. 

“I’m trying to make brownies,” he says, unsure how else to explain the mess in the kitchen. It takes Vanya another minute to compose herself.

“Brownies?” She asks, eyeing the mess incredulously, “what were you-” she sighs, “you have no idea what you’re doing.” He really doesn’t, but it still stings when she dumps the batter into the trash, “Just, come here.” She moves to the countertop, wipes a small area clear of egg, and pulls out a clean bowl. “Okay, so first we want to mix the cocoa and flour….” 

The resulting brownies still aren’t edible. He tells Klaus about the attempt that night while attempting a second batch.

Klaus laughs in response, “Oh, I’m the best at making brownies. We can make ‘em  _ real special _ .” Klaus wiggles his eyebrows, and Luther knows he is joking, but... bits of the egg in his hand still end up on the ceiling. Klaus spends half an hour laughing about the look on his face. He calls it a day on baking after that. 

Despite his attempts at reconciling with all his siblings, Diego and he are on uncomfortable ground at best. They exchange words, fight, exchange more words and leave. He wants to work on that, but talking to Diego feels like he’s stomping right over his father’s nonexistent grave. It dredges up feelings he doesn’t want anymore, and he’s never been good at keeping himself calm. They don’t avoid each other, they dance around each other, trying to fix things, half-failing, half-succeeding.  _ It takes time,  _ his therapist said. He has to remind himself of that sometimes.

He doesn’t talk to Five much at first. Five is restless, angry at the earth, God, and puberty. Luther doesn’t know how to help with any of that, so he keeps the house well-stocked with coffee, marshmallows, and peanut butter. Five shows up when he feels like it. He drops in, says something ridiculous, does something more ridiculous, and disappears, usually within a few hours. 

Five shows up, once, bleeding, with a broken arm. A broken humerus, at that. Five’s explanation is a shrug. He says something ominous that implies the man who did it is either crippled for life or dead. Luther takes a deep breath and ignores it. Instead of making a fuss, he says he knows how to help with his arm. Kate would be proud.

They have to stop by the store and grab some other supplies. Luther hasn’t ever broken an arm, so he doesn’t have anything to make a cast or splint with. They grab what they need to make a cast and two bags of marshmallows. 

Once they’re back, Five shoves his mouth full of marshmallows and gives Luther the cue to check it. Luther’s pretty sure the marshmallows are a choking risk but Five is Five. He can’t do much about it. The bone isn’t out of place, yet. He’s pretty sure it shifts a bit when he feels the bone. Luther diagnoses Five with a humerus shaft fracture and swallows the nausea from the feeling of his brother’s bones grinding under his hand. He presses his fingers on either side of the fracture gently. Probing at the bone, he can’t find any evidence of a full break, or the grinding he thought he felt before. Luther insists on giving Five a cast anyways. He doesn’t get much argument on that point since Five passed out five minutes earlier from the pain. 

The cast ends up being horribly misformed. Five grumbles about it for hours between handfuls of marshmallows. He stays the weekend, enjoys some coffee, and shows up the next week, too. 

They celebrate Christmas together for the first time that year, though Klaus celebrates Hanukkah.

Luther thinks it’s a bit weird and says as much. Klaus says it’s for Dave. 

He manifests him each night so they can light the candles together. It’s oddly intimate, the way Dave wraps his body around Klaus’s, so they’re both holding the candle. Klaus’s hands are too shaky to light any alone, but Dave steadies him. It’s something Luther’s never had, but Klaus looks so happy during those moments. Happy in a way Luther doesn’t recognize from all their years growing up together. Maybe he just didn’t notice before. Maybe it’s new. Either way, he’s happy for Klaus. He thinks that might be new, too.

They decide to get Vanya a new violin. It’s difficult for Luther. He sees her back at the theatre, playing the song that ends the world in his mind. Five glosses over Luther’s worries.

“She’s been playing her old one,” he says, “the timbre isn’t right anymore, and her boss has been commenting on it.” 

Five manages to convince him. She can’t afford a new one-- violins are expensive-- and with their inheritance and a bit of help, they pool their money and buy her a new one. It’s no Stravinsky, but Vanya seems thrilled anyways.

Watching from the far corner of the room, Luther starts to have a realization. Maybe it's Five who sparks it when he walks up and nudges Luther pointedly. Luther follows his gaze and sees them. All of them, gathered around Vanya as she plays, grinning and proud. 

_ Maybe, just maybe _ , Luther thinks, eight months after the apocalypse, surrounded by his family, all in one place just to enjoy each other’s company,  _ maybe this is what okay is. _


End file.
